


The Castle Always Knows

by selenehekate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenehekate/pseuds/selenehekate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is tumbling down the stairs. Who else can save her but the snarky potions master she's always secretly craved?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Castle Always Knows

She was helpless, and she knew it. 

It was a rather depressing notion, to be sure - the last thing that Hermione Granger ever wanted to be was helpless. However, as she tumbled down a particularly long flight of stairs late one night during her seventh year at Hogwarts, she found herself completely powerless to halt her fall. Her outstretched arms and flailing limbs only served to bruise her body, not slow her descent. 

She mind growled as she fell. This is the last time I check out a stack of books so tall I can't see my own feet, she thought as her head knocked against a particularly sharp step. Never again will I miss the obvious fact that my shoelaces are untied!

At least her books weren't falling with her. They had somehow managed to fling from her arms to the top of the staircase and were resting neatly in the very spot she desperately wished to be standing. She might leave this encounter with a concussion, but at least Madam Pince wouldn't kill her for defacing her texts. Both Pince and all of the books had managed to make it through the war and the following school year intact - that was no easy feat. Now, as a student graduating from Hogwarts in three weeks, Hermione was almost sad to leave the school and the professors like Madam Pince behind. Almost.

Her rolling body was quickly approaching the bottom of the steps - thank Merlin, she thought with a groan - when suddenly, the staircases began to move. As the one she was rolling down started to shift, it connected with a second one. It was with horror that Hermione realized she would continue her fall down yet another flight of stairs.

"No!" she called out, flinging her hand to the side in a desperate attempt to grab ahold of one of the banister's supporting pillars. Instead of gripping the stone like she'd intended, however, a sharp crack rang out, and a firing pain shot through her wrist. She moaned, yet she still continued to fall.

A hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the back of her neck, holding her face inches away from where it would have smacked against the following step. A slight whimper escaped from the back of her throat as the strong hands that held her lifted her upright and leaned her against the wall.

"Is this how Gryffindors choose to spend their time now?" a deep, snide voice inquired. "Honestly, Miss Granger, if you wanted to fling yourself into unnecessary danger, I think you could do a bit better than having a staircase as your opponent." The ground before them began to shake, as the stairs started to detach from the wall. "No offense," the voice said quickly. The stairs stilled, then slid back into place.

Hermione blinked and slowly brought her eyes up to the figure who had rescued her. "Professor Snape," she gasped, her eyes going wide. Professor Snape... Why did it have to be him? He was the professor she secretly admired the most, whose class she secretly liked the most... who intrigued her the most. "I... thank you. I couldn't control-"

"I had gathered as much, Miss Granger," he said in a low voice. "I doubt you showed your undergarments to me on purpose."

Her heart tightened as the blood drained from her face. "My... my undergarments?" Mentally, she began to berate herself. What was she wearing today? Something cute? Something dull? And- Wait, why did it matter? Why was she concerned about impressing her professor?

"Your skirt rode up as you fell, Miss Granger," he said, a smirk slipping across his face. "The grey of your skirt suddenly gave way to black."

Her face felt as though it were burning up, and all she could seem to do was stutter. "I... P-professor, I-" Something dawned on her, however, and she froze. "Hang on... You just... spoke to the staircase," she said hesitantly.

"Very good, Miss Granger," he drawled. "It appears your recent adventure hasn't addled your ability to state the obvious, now has it?"

"But... but why would you-"

"Surely someone who has memorized Hogwarts: A History like yourself would know that this castle is enchanted?"

"I do!" she defended quickly. "I do. The castle is enchanted to think and restructure itself in ways that benefit the students, as though it were a living entity-"

"Precisely, Miss Granger," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "As though it were living. The last time I checked living entities were rather easily offended."

She frowned. "Oh, well I... I didn't think about that. I mean, I know students have insulted the building before-"

"Yes," he said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. "Students. And as you so blatantly pointed out just moments ago, the castle is enchanted to behave in ways that 'benefit the students.' Since I am no such person - and we can all be thankful for that - I don't fall under any such... protection."

"Oh," she said, her lips slightly downturned. "But then why was I able to roll down not one, but two flights of stairs? If the castle is designed to think and benefit the students, why didn't the stairs move to stop my descent? Why did they aid it?"

A small smirk began to form over his lips. "Perhaps it bears a grudge against you, Miss Granger. It certainly wouldn't be the first entity to do so."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she reached up to smooth her hair back. "Yes, I'm sure that's the reason- Bloody hell!" she gasped as she lowered her hands from her hair, her eyes locked on her left wrist. Her hand was bent at an angle; she could tell that something was broken.

Snape's eyebrows rose. "My," he said softly. "Someone clearly needs to be more careful."

"I did this trying to break my fall," she muttered as she stared down at her wrist. "I should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Let me see it," he scowled as he gently grabbed her hand. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

"I'm fine, sir."

He scowled. "You know, you might have mentioned this earlier."

"I'm sorry, I was a little distracted by the fact that you were talking to the staircase," she snapped, sarcasm readily apparent in her tone. "Which, by the way, failed to protect me from breaking my wrist!"

"You didn't break your wrist, Miss Granger," he said, lightly running his fingers over the palm of her hand as he studied her limb. She jumped slightly, surprised by the smooth, delicate touch of his hand. "Just the pisiform, I believe. And that can be easily mended."

She stared at him, surprised by his words. "You know human anatomy?"

He glared at her, insulted by her inquiry. "I do have interests outside of potions, Miss Granger."

"I'm aware," she said softly. "But I thought your main focus - besides potions, that is - was on Defense Against the Dark Arts. I didn't realize you had other-"

"They're connected, Miss Granger," he said, looking up at her. He still held onto her wrist. "Defensive magic is created in order to protect yourself or someone else. The best way to protect something is to understand what it is you're trying to protect. If, for example, you're trying to shield against a curse that drains its opponents of all their blood, it would be easier to do so with an understanding of how the blood flows within your body. So instead of shielding your entire body, you're only shielding the veins and arteries, etc. It uses less energy and is more efficient."

"That's... that's a really fascinating theory, Professor," she said. Her mind was whirling, spinning with possibilities. "If you could learn the mechanics..." she met his gaze. "But it's not a practice that's widely taught, is it?"

A snide look slipped onto his face. "Clearly not."

"But why wouldn't it be? Professor, if you could teach this, it would-"

"Work in reverse as well. It would give dark wizards new ways to create violent and torturous spells," he interrupted. "Think, Miss Granger. If the Dark Lord had known where each bone in the body was, how much quicker do you think he could have murdered his victims?"

"The killing curse is rather quick-"

"Yet it uses much more magical energy," he said, his hand squeezing her wrist a little tighter. Pain shot through Hermione's arm, but she was so intrigued by this discussion; she didn't want to bring him back to reality and inadvertently end it. "The killing curse - though effective - weakens the magical core in a way that anatomical magic does not. The same amount of energy it took to kill one person could have been used to murder fifty, a hundred, even."

Her eyes widened. "That's... a sobering notion."

His lip curled and he loosened his grip on her hand. "Indeed."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to teach me, sir," she asked slowly.

He didn't understand. "The killing curse?"

"Anatomical magic," she corrected.

His eyebrows shot up, surprise clearly coloring his face. "Why? Do you have a great many murders to commit, Miss Granger?"

"Certainly not. But perhaps a great knowledge of anatomical magic could be of use when I apply for an apprenticeship with St. Mungo's."

He scoffed. "You're going to be a healer, are you? That's a waste of your time."

"I'll be doing good in the world-"

"You'll be bored. And you know it." He shook his head. "I refuse to facilitate the decision of such a well-structured mind to waste her time. If you wish to learn anatomical magic, do it by yourself. You will receive no assistance from me."

Hermione, however, was still staring slack-jawed at him for another reason. "A well-structured mind... Professor, did you just pay me a compliment?"

"Clearly one you didn't deserve if you need to clarify what I said," he snapped. She noticed that he'd gone rigid, though, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink.

"Well, I... I wouldn't necessarily be sure what to do... otherwise," she admitted. Her hesitation was due, in part, because this was true. All she'd ever considered to do with her life was heal. However, that hesitation also stemmed from the fact that her surprisingly gentle professor still held onto her hand and had paid her a compliment. Suddenly, she cared far more about his opinion than she was willing to admit. She shook the thought off and tilted her head to the side, considering. "I mean, I know I want to help people, but other than that-"

"Research, Miss Granger," he cut in. "With a mind like yours, research is the best way you can help people."

"But that's so vague. Research what? And besides that, my age is an obvious problem. No one will want to fund research from someone who just got out of Hogwarts. No one will want to work with someone who has no prior experience. No one would have me-"

"I'll have you," he said quietly. They both froze as his words sank in. The slight pink on the tips of his ears grew steadily darker. "As a research partner, I mean," he clarified.

"Oh. Right," she said, a blush forming over her cheeks. Was she... disappointed that he didn't mean anything else by that? Sure, she'd always found him to be an intellectually attractive man, but that was the only way she was attracted to him... right? "You... you want me as your research partner?"

"If you think you can handle working in the real world where being Potter's friend doesn't guarantee your success," he sneered, "then... I would accept you as a research partner. Perhaps."

"Perhaps," she said with a roll of her eyes. Pain shot through her still broken wrist. "I see. So the affirmative statement you just made has been downgraded now, has it?"

"I see no reason not to rescind the offer, Miss Granger, if you can't even manage to walk up a flight of stairs without falling down it."

"My shoelace was untied," she argued back. "It's not my fault. And would you please mend my wrist, Professor? It's starting to sting a little."

His lip curled back. "Very well, then. Ripapare." A flash of yellow light encircled her wrist, and just like that, the pain was gone.

She tilted her head to the side. "Thank you," she said softly. "Was that a french spell?"

"Italian."

A small, cheeky smile slipped onto her features. "Really? So you understand human anatomy and you're bilingual? What else don't I know about you, Professor?" She was shocked at how brazen she was - what right did she have to ask him that? - and yet her words felt natural, almost. As though asking such a pointed, personal question to him was no big deal.

He took a slight step back, an odd, contemplative look on his face. As he glanced down, however, that look disappeared, and was instead replaced by a wicked smirk. "Miss Granger, I find it rather impossible to believe that you tripped over your own shoelace when you aren't even wearing shoes with laces."

"What?" she said, looking down at the black flats she had on with her tights. "I... But that can't be right," she said, looking up at him once more. "I could have sworn I tripped over something. A lace, a string-"

"Well, clearly you're mistaken."

"But how-"

"Miss Granger, far be it from me to discuss your inadequacies any further. Now, then. If you wish to partner with me for my upcoming research project, I expect an application on my desk no later than tomorrow morning."

She blanched. "Tomorrow? That gives me absolutely no time-"

"If," he continued, speaking as though he hadn't heard her, "you do not wish to apply for the position, then I will expect a formal letter saying otherwise on my desk by the same time."

"That's absurd-"

"Now, if that's all, I shall bide you good night, Miss Granger. It's rather late, and I think it best we both retire for the evening."

She scowled, but relented nonetheless. "Of course, sir. Good night."

"Good night. Do be careful of the stairs," he smirked once more. "We wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself twice in one evening, now would we?"

She flushed and looked away. "No, sir."

"Quite right you are."

He turned his back, but before he could say a word, Hermione spoke. "Sir? Um, sorry, but..." He faced her once more, his eyebrow quirked in interest. "Thank you. For stopping my fall. And healing my wrist and... everything else."

He nodded silently, and made to turn around once more, when the stairs suddenly gave a lurch, quickly pulling away from the wall and then slamming up against it once more. The pair stumbled, Snape falling forward and into Hermione, his weight holding her up and pressing her against the wall. As she opened her eyes, she noticed that his lips were just inches away from her own. Her breath caught in her throat as they locked eyes. She was surprised to see a heat in his gaze, a desire that was mixed with caution and fear. As she continued to look at him, though, she slowly found herself drawing closer and closer to him, until her lips were a breath away from his own, until she found her eyes drifting shut...

They kissed, his thin, warm lips gently colliding with her plump ones. She was struck by how he tasted - like warm jasmine tea - and by how slowly his lips moved against her own... how his hands intertwined themselves in her hair... how his tongue slowly slid along the inside of her mouth... how he withdrew his tongue and captured her bottom lip between his teeth.

They pulled apart, neither of them breathless, but both of them wanting more. As they stared up at each other, in awe of the surprisingly tender kiss they'd just shared, Hermione couldn't help but give a small, shaky grin. "Do you still want an application on your desk by tomorrow morning?"

"That... that won't be necessary," he said with a slight hesitation. "Though perhaps this little... encounter shouldn't occur again-"

"Nice try. But you've already seen my knickers. And I don't show those to just anyone," she whispered before she leaned in and captured his lips with her own. This time, her lips moved quicker, with more force than they had in their previous kiss. She was making a claim, letting him know that she wanted this, that she was enjoying it. He appeared to be complying rather well, if the way his hands struggled to pull her closer meant anything-

She jerked away, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. "Oh, Merlin!" she moaned with a shake of her head.

"I... I apologize," Snape said, slowly backing away from her. "That wasn't something... I shouldn't have done that. That was out of line, and I understand if-"

"Not that," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "Earlier. When I tripped over a pair of shoelaces that I wasn't wearing. Don't you get it?"

He blinked. "I... what?"

"It was the castle. It was all the castle."

"What are you babbling about now, Miss Granger?"

"The castle is enchanted to restructure itself in a way that benefits the students," she said, her eyes shinning. "That's why I tripped. It was the castle. It manipulated the stairs into moving so you and I would run into each other. So that we'd talk, and you'd offer me the job. It wanted me to work with you."

He paused, briefly considering her idea, before he slowly shook his head. "That's not it," he said, thinking as he spoke. "It didn't want you to take the job... The stairs moved again after I'd already offered it to you, remember? They jerked us, and we fell together, and we..."

"We kissed," she said, as it dawned on her. "The castle wanted us to kiss."

"I'm right, aren't I?" Snape asked, to seemingly no one in particular. In response, the stairs moved slowly up a few feet, before they settled once more into place.

Hermione blinked. "That was impressive."

"The castle thinks we'd be well suited for each other. Despite all of the horrible issues that arise with this," he said loudly in the direction of the center of Hogwarts. "For some reason, the castle thinks we're... right. For now, anyway."

"It knew I was always a little attracted to you," Hermione mused, her eyes slightly glazed over. "To your skill-"

"To your mind," Severus said softly.

"To your wit."

"And your loyalty," he finished.

"But how? How could it possibly know that when we're only just figuring it out for ourselves?" she asked as she reached for his hand.

"The castle knows," he said with a shake of his head. "The castle always knows."


End file.
